A Bless You Would Have Sufficed
by December Writing Dragon
Summary: America makes a discovery regarding Russia's sneezes and wields this new information with dignity...not. RusAme oneshot. Warning for some language.


Based on this post on tumblr martytries . tumblr post / 120787609852 / headcanon – that – ivan – has – the – lightest – tiniest (just remove the spaces) of martytries's art, submission by aph-russia, in which America discovers the true nature of Russia's sneeze. As always, reviews are welcomed! Enjoy!

0o0o0

In hind sight, Russia knew he should have probably arranged to stay home. The spring thaw meant all the plant life would be in full bloom, which in turn meant pollen. So much pollen. Pollen on flower petals, in the air, clogging the sinuses…his people were feeling it, and so was he. Between feeling as though his head had been replaced with a led balloon and like he had swallowed sand paper, getting through an afternoon of meetings would be a miracle.

He had told himself seeing Alfred would be a nice saving grace, but apparently God hated him because even that reprieve turned traitorous. And for a reason Russia told himself was so absurd only Alfred could have come up with it.

"Hey hot stuff," America said cheerily as he entered the conference room, wielding a suitcase and bad head cold. Ivan responded with a playful nudge of the elbow which, naturally, Alfred felt the need to match. They proceeded in this exchange for a few more moments before Ivan broke into a string of coughing that sent all sorts of unpleasantness rising up the back of his throat.

"Damn- you okay, big guy?" America asked, rubbing at his shoulder in concern.

"Da, ya kharasho. Yes, I am fine, Fedya," Ivan said, his nasal voice giving him away instantly. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, you sound perfect dude. Should you even be here?" he asked as they made their way to their seats, their fellow nations shuffling in behind them.

"Mmhmm," Russia hummed distractedly, all too aware of the sudden itching in his nose. "Ah-"

"What's wrong?" America cut across, pausing in his removal of his paperwork to peer at his boyfriend.

"Ah…"

"Dude, seriously, what's up?"

"Ah-"

America was just about to bring a hand to Ivan's forehead to check for a fever when it happened.

" _Tschi_!"

Alfred stared. Blinked once. And stared some more.

 _That was…so…tiny! Tiny and…so cute…_

"Ah- !" Russia sneezed again, the sound coming out as barely more than a squeak, burrowing his over large nose into the crook of his elbow as he did so. Ah- ! Ah- !" Small catlike sneeze after catlike sneeze, his face scrunched up in discomfort, deep crinkles gouged into the corners of his eyes as they watered.

"That…"

"Ah- ! Izvinite, excuse me, I-" Russia drew his face from the shelter of his arm, only to be met by a pair of glaring blue eyes.

"Sonuvabich, how dare you to be so effing cute I'll sue," Alfred said darkly, all in one breath. His expression promised no good things for the distant future, yet the look in his eyes was one of pure adoration. Ivan never thought he ever met anyone harboring so many conflicting expressions as Alfred, but what could have incited such contrasts was beyond him.

"Wh-what?" Ivan asked thickly, large nose now quite red as he rubbed at it.

"You heard me. What the hell was that? You never said your sneeze was the cutest damn thing to hit this earth," America said rather accusitorily. "I thought we agreed we'd tell each other things, Ivan! Important things! This is important! That was more effing adorable than anything has a right to be!" He slammed a fist down on the conference table, effectively cracking it. Ivan was starting to look rather alarmed now, violet eyes glazed from his cold but wide with confusion.

"What- my sneeze is what you are making this fuss ab- ah, ah-" His shoulders spasimed as his hands flew to cover his nose and mouth. His back was bowed back from the build up. All the power he wielded as a nation seemed now to be concentrated in this next action- "!" came the tiny little tinkle of sound.

"Thatwastooprecious!" Alfred cooed, fishing in his jacket pocket. "Do it one more time- I wanna record this!"

Russia sent him a violet glare. "Nyet- my sickness is not for your stupid vines!" he snapped.

"Nah way, man, this is for myself!" Alfred crowed, lining up his phone's camera. "Okay, I'm all set!"

Ivan leapt to his feat in a flurry of congestion and irritation. "I have changed my mind- I think I vill head back to hotel for afternoon," he growled, accent thickening in his annoyance at his boyfriend's antics.

"But I didn't get my video!"

0o0o0

Alfred had a brief chance at redemption that evening when they met up for their dinner date. Naturally, he performed remarkably and rose to the occasion.

Their waiter had barely departed to fulfill their orders when Alfred scooped up the pepper shaker. "Last call, Evie," he warned.

Russia had time only to raise a pale eyebrow in confusion before America jerked the pepper shaker so a swarm of the little dark flakes came sailing right into his face.

Alfred got his beloved video and a six-month exile to the couch.

THE END


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